Lost Innocence
by ali.9319
Summary: Ilse Neumann carries a deep secret with her. She views the world in very different eyes then the other girls do her age.


Disclaimer: I don't own Spring Awakening

You run up the stairs with hot tears streaming down your face. Run into your room, slam the door and lock it behind you. You slide your back down the wood, trembling, wanting to be anywhere but here. But you have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, you're alone and no one knows. To the rest of the world you're just an innocent little girl. You wake up every morning; mommy braids your hair and ties little red ribbons around them. Slapping a smile onto your face, you head off to school, out into the real world, just like daddy screams.

"You do as I say, you hear me? I know what's best, and in the real world the man always knows what's best. You'd better learn that now and get ahead of the other girls. You want to succeed don't you?" You slowly nod your head, knowing not to disobey daddy. "Good, now do as I tell you and everything will be ok."

You walk along to school with that silly smile plastered on your face, to show that everything is ok. Because that's what smiles do, they tell the world to move along, we're fine. And everyone does move along because they're too preoccupied with whatever they are hiding to even bother to find out what's really behind your smile. Or maybe they just don't want to know. Maybe they prefer to think of you as the little innocent girl with the red braids.  You've always wondered why red was the chosen color, and why braids were the chosen style. But you never asked, since you knew you would receive no answer and everything that night would be ten times worse because you questioned authority. Adults always know best, listen to your elders. Just like daddy says.

During the day's lesson you learn nothing, everything goes right through you. You're still in shock from last night. If it wasn't for your mothers soothing morning tea, you would still be shaking in your seat. Maybe that would draw their attention. But even if it did you knew they would just turn a blind eye. Everyone has their own methods and what goes on behind closed doors stays there.  After class you run down to the field with Wendla, Anna, Thea, and Martha to meet the boys where you will play pirates until dinner just as you always do. You love playing pirates because you're one of the stronger girls. Pirates has always been something you had control over and that's what you love about it. No one tells you how to play and you're strong enough to defend yourself against anyone. You're in control...not your father, you.

When it begins to get dark outside you know you must head home for dinner, just like all the other children. But unlike Georg eagerly running home for his piano lesson or Ernst hurrying home to read his bible; you walk as slowly as possible. The more time you spend away from your home the better. Your punishment doesn't usually hurt as much or last as long when your father is drunk. And the longer you stay out the drunker he will be, and maybe if you're really lucky he will have passed out before you even arrive.

You insert your silver key into the lock and slowly turn the brass knob praying that everything will be okay, just for tonight; begging the lord to spare you if only this once. But you step inside to smell your mothers cooking and your father sitting in his arm chair reading, awaiting your arrival.

"Oh Isle, you stay out a little late tonight don't you think?"

"Yes s-sorry mother." You mumble wishing you were out playing pirates with Moritz; he always let you win no matter what. He knows how much pirates means to you and how it's your escape.

"Isle daring." You're father calls.

"Yes father?" You reply avoiding eye contact.

"You must be tired from all that running around, how about after dinner I help you finish your homework?" He suggests. If you weren't so used to his traps you would have thought he actually wanted to help you, but unfortunately, you know better.

"Actually I finished all my homework....after school." You quickly reply trying to avert the situation.

"Oh well, you still must be exhausted. How about I tuck you in early tonight and read you a few stories?"

"Oh that does sound lovely." assumed your mother. If only she knew, maybe she would protect you. But maybe she does know and she doesn't care. She just puts on her smile and plays pretend.

Everything is a game, you play pretend at home, at school, and then you play pirates with Moritz Stiefel. Oh how you long to set sail and drift off with Moritz. And who knows maybe one day you will. But for now you have to sit down and eat dinner with your mother and father, pretending once again just like you will later on when your father tucks you in and just like you will tomorrow and the next day, forever. You know there's more to this, and one day you will find it. Hopefully it will be under a new set of stars where no one knows you other then Moritz.

After your father leaves you that night, he closes the door. You roll over and stare at the dark night's sky. Ten minutes ago, you could see the entire horizon. Now, only the dusk-the first few stars…it's so dark. But you wouldn't have it any other way. To you, staring into a dark night is like staring into the unknown, so many endless possibilities.

You awake the next day just to play the same game of pretend. But after playing that same game for thirteen years of your life, you decide you've had enough. You're tired of it all, so you don't come home that night. Instead you run into the forest and continue running until you bump into a strange man. You recognize him from painting portraits in town. He introduces himself as Johan Fehrendorf and invites you back to the artist's colony. Alone and afraid with nowhere to go you graciously accept the offer. Days pass turning into months and then as life would have it, months into years. But then you find your life to be not what you expected and flee that night heading back home to visit your old friends. As you're walking through the forest towards your dear old town, you stumble upon a dear old friend.

"Moritz Stiefel!"

"Isle?! You frighten me? Damn it!"

"What are you looking for?" You inquire.

"If only I knew" replies a distort Moritz.

"Then what's the use of looking?"

"So where have you been keeping yourself?" He asks changing the subject

"Priapia- the Artists' colony?"

"Yes" he says with a nod.

"All those old buggers, Moritz. All so wild. So....Bohemian. All they want to do is dress me up and paint me! That Johan Fehrendorf, he's a wicked one, actually. Always knocking easels down and chasing me. Dabbing me with his paintbrush. But then, that's men-if they can't stick you with one thing, they'll try another. Oh god, Moritz, the other day we all got drunk, I passed out in the snow- just lay there, unconscious, all night. Then I spent an entire week with Gustav Baum. Inhaling that ether of his! Until this morning, when he woke me with a gun, set against my breast. He said: 'One twitch and it's the end.' Really gave me goose bumps... But, how about you, Moritz- still in school?"

"Well this semester I'm through"

"God do you remember how we used to run back to my house and play pirates? Wendla Bergman, Melchior Gabor, you and I?..." You ask in a dreamy state remembering those days yourself, as if you could ever forget them.

"Actually, I better go."

"Walk as far as my house with me."

"And....?"

"We'll dig up those old tomahawks and play together, Moritz-just like we used to. "

"I wish I could"

"Then why don't you?"

"Eighty lines of Virgil, sixteen equations, a paper on the Hapsburgs..."

"You know, by the time you finally wake up I'll be lying on some trash heap." You say running away into the forest not looking back at Moritz, but wishing he would have come. Then you'd have a reason to wake up. The dreaded artists' colony was not what you had thought it would be.

Bang!

You stop dead in your tracks, knowing deep inside that was a gunshot. As quickly as your feet will let you go you head back to where Moritz had just been. And surely enough it had been him. In shock you take the gun and hide it so no one will find it. Not knowing where to go you run back into town blood on your hands that matches your childhood ribbons. Alone and trembling you run to your old home, up the stairs, you slam the wooden door not caring who you awake. You slide down the wood and burry your hair into your red hands. Once again you're left alone and trembling, in the cold red innocence of your childhood.


End file.
